The Coming Storm
by Andrithir
Summary: Spartans were never meant to be heroes, but it was how things turned out.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I decided to write this because I felt like it…**

**XXxxXX**

**46 years after the discovery and reverse engineering of Forerunner technology…  
2400 HOURS, OCTOBER 31****st****, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
UNSC HELD SPACE, NEW HOLLAND II**

The droppod impacted, sending blackened soil into the air. Commander John-117 glided in after it using his armour's atmospheric re-entry systems. The thrusters slowed down his descent to acceptable levels while his manipulated energy shields directed the flow of air around him. The Spartan flipped himself around and landed onto the dirt with a crunch, he peered at the charcoaled dirt and found that he had landed on glass. He expected as much considering the 7th Fleet's prior orbital bombardment. He took in a deep breath as he unslung his Superior Adaptive Battle Rifle (SABR - sabre), and swept low. The rest of Blue team arrived just seconds later, they fanned out and formed a perimeter.

John glanced at his HUD, his orders were to take a butte and cover the advance of the 10th Armoured Battalion and 203rd Mechanised Infantry. The Commander made a gestured with his left hand, ordering the team to retrieve their heavy equipment from the pod.

Cortana wasn't with him for this mission much to Blue team's dismay, but she was assigned to more pressing tasks.

"Overlord, this is Sierra One-one-seven, we've made landfall. No casualties, how copy, over?" John whispered into his COM.

"Solid copy," answered the Operator, "advance to the butte and await further instructions, out."

"Copy."

The Spartan then nodded lightly to his team, gesturing them to follow.

"Engage active camo," he ordered.

Green acknowledgement lights winked on as the team faded away from sight. Blue quickly fell into a light jogging pace, visually scanning the environment for any Covenant Loyalists, as they approached the massive land formation.

John motioned his team to move into position. Linda silently crept to a rocky outcrop under the cover dusk, and set up her SRSM420 Railgun. Her acknowledgement light winked on John's display, indicating her level of readiness.

"What do you see?" he asked.

Linda switched to the scope's thermal view and swept across the butte.

"One Brute Chieftain, two platoons of Brute units, four Jackal snipers, a couple of Shade Turrets and a load of Grunts," she answered.

"Fred, you're with me," said John, "Kelly, you're the rabbit, pull their fire. Linda, take out the snipers."

"Copy," they replied.

"Three, two, one, go!"

In an instant, Kelly speed off, firing her sabre with unnerving accuracy at the Loyalists' positions, lances of ion rounds took out scores of Grunts. The rounds melted through the cannon-fodders' armour, rupturing their methane tanks, causing them to explode. The Covenant quickly trained their weapons on the Spartan, but she moved too fast for them. Plasma bolts just splashed harmlessly in her wake.

Linda quickly lined up her sights, and in a split second, all four snipers and the Brute Chieftain fell.

"You're clear boys."

"Thanks," said Fred.

The both of them charged the butte directly; lances of ion rounds lashed out like angry tongues and cut down a great number of Brutes and Grunts. Upon seeing a more pressing threat, the enemy turned their weapons on the advancing Spartans.

John and Fred quickly disengaged their active camo to reduce power requirements and continued on firing. Their weapons barked like quick successions of violent electrical discharge as dozens of soldiers clutched their burning wounds.

After Kelly had reached the other side of the butte, she made her way up the hill, throwing the remaining forces in disarray.

A small number of Covenant soldiers made a mad dash to the Shade turrets, but were swiftly killed by Linda in her concealed position.

The skirmish had only lasted a few minutes; the defenders had been overwhelmed with terrifying precision and firepower.

"Linda, move up," ordered John.

"Coming."

"Overlord, the butte has been taken, over."

"Copy that Blue team, all battle group elements are advancing at this time."

In the distance, John could see the Ares Ultra-Heavy tanks open fire on the Covenant positions. Air sorties flew overhead while the mechanized moved in closely behind.

**XXxxXX**

**A few hours later**

The offensive was successful, but the Loyalists were bound to counter-attack with shocking force later. John had been ordered to make a sweep of the lower depths of the base, just to make sure the previous tenants hadn't left behind any nasty surprises. Knowing that the sweep would be relatively easy, the Commander assigned Fred and Linda to aid in the defence of the base, while he and Kelly clear out the remainders.

A team of ODSTs stepped aside and opened the passage into the base as John and Kelly passed through.

The interior was like any other Covenant base, it was dimly lit with a purple hue, and the violet walls curved towards the ceiling. The two swiftly combed through the areas, resistance was light as the vast majority had been eliminated during the attack.

Large dual doors hissed as they entered a cavernous room, a Brute Chieftain stood in the centre.

"Demons!" he snarled, a device behind him began to beep.

John swore instantly. He quickly grabbed Kelly and tossed her through the door. The female Spartan was still flying through the air when the device detonated. She watched in horror as a violet-black void washed over her old friend, while he engaged armour lock.

"John!" she cried as she rushed back to his former position. Except nothing was there, but a smouldering crater, with smoke curling up from the molten metal.

**XXxxXX**

**AVENGER HQ**

"Sir," said an Operator, "we have a massive energy spike just outside of San Francisco."

The admin of the Avengers looked closely at the readings picked up from the satellite network. It was too high to be of natural or manmade causes. Fury feared that it might be another alien invasion.

"Has any other departments responded?" asked Nick Fury.

"No sir, they say it's in our ballpark."

"Who do we have in the area?"

"Stark, Rhodes, Rogers, Wolverine and Walters."

Fury nodded lightly, "call in who we can to check it out, tell all other departments to remain on standby."

"Yes sir."

**XXxxXX**

**0300 HOURS, NOVEMBER 1****st****, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
UNKOWN LOCATION**

John awoke to the smell of ozone; the air seemed to crackle around him. Black dots swarmed his vision as he fought off unconsciousness. The Spartan shook his head to increase his alertness, but was rewarded by a sharp burning pain in his neck. He exhaled as he moved the rest of his body, which seemed to cry out in protest at any form of movement.

His vision began to clear, the pain was fading away, and the positronic brain lattices within his body began the healing process. The Spartan then grabbed his rifle and made sure that it was operational, the weapon made a satisfactory whir as he flicked the safeties back and forth.

"Kelly?" he called out, "Kelly are you there?"

John heard nothing but the reply of a soft breeze and rustling trees. _Trees?_

The Spartan pulled himself up and looked around. His sight adjusted to the night, he could see the moon shining brightly, and the evergreen trees that surrounded him. He remembered being underground, not outside.

_That looks like Luna_ he thought as his gaze focused onto the moon.

A strange feeling began to ebb into the Spartan's gut. Something was wrong. The platform he stood on, was part of the Covenant base, however there was a massive smouldering hole in the centre. John knew that was where the Brute must've been standing. The Commander quickly came to the conclusion that the device was a slipspace rupture _bomb_. By all rights he should've been dead; the EMP blasts from his armour must've disrupted the rupture, causing him to be transported elsewhere.

"Overlord," he keyed into his COM, "Overlord come in."

Nothing but silence came across the channels. It was as if, there was no one there.

Looking around, John decided to move due north, however his sensitive hearing picked up movement. He quickly switched to Promethean vision to see the world beyond his vision. There was a green humanoid like shape that slinked through the undergrowth of the forest. It seemed to have a feminine figure, not that the Spartan really cared.

He carefully lined up his sights and squeezed the trigger, firing a warning shot. The lance of savage blue energy slashed through the night sky and burned straight through a redwood tree. The figure immediately stopped and threw itself behind the cover of a boulder.

The Spartan engaged active camo, the wet grass beneath his boots squelched lightly as he advanced forward slowly. He was in an unknown situation, and the most logical thing to do was to subdue and interrogate. This figure he had just fired upon seemed to have a semblance of intelligence, which meant it would provide some much needed answers.

…

Jennifer Walters, also known as She-Hulk swore as energy rounds stabbed through the darkness of night. An entity was advancing on her position, firing suppressive shots. Normally Walters would've taken her attackers head on, but it was hard to fight back against someone who you couldn't see.

"Tin-boys," she whispered into her COM, "can you get a fix on this guy's position?"

"Doing an overhead pass right now," answered Rhodes, with Stark in tow.

The two men soared through the air, their armour's advance scanners combed through the immediate area to pick up the unknown entity.

"Jennifer, target is about thirty metres to your west," Stark said. Two white figures appeared on his HUD, one was tagged as She-Hulk, and the other unknown. The entity may have optical camouflage; it was by no means able to escape X-ray detection.

"That's great," said Walters, "but there's no moon, and I don't have a compass."

"To your left," sighed Tony.

"Thank you point-dexter."

Jennifer swiftly vaulted over the rocks and smashed through a couple of trees before slamming the entity.

…

The Spartan didn't expect that move, and that annoyed him. He had the advantage first, now this green being had turned the tables on him. The MJOLNIR's first shield layer sparked and flared gold as it beared the brunt of the shock. Wooden splinters flew in every direction as the massive timber broke against him, the active camo was not designed to resist this type of attack and thus failed, revealing the armoured warrior to the naked eye. The SABR fell out of the Supersoldier's hands and landed with a dull thud on the grass.

John took a quick glance at the attacking figure whom had pinned him down; it appeared to be a female, green skinned to be exact, with long dark green hair, emerald eyes, her facial structure resembled that of a Caucasian, she would have to be approximately seven feet tall.

He was surprised that she possessed this much strength, and that, she was _green_. What kind of human is _green_? But the Spartan didn't dwell on the matter for long as he brought up his arms, and shoved her in the chest. The momentum of his attack temporarily stunned her, allowing the Spartan to use his legs to push off her.

John landed about twenty metres away from her and took a low fighting stance. The air around his hands began to shimmer and crackle as plasma blades began to take form in the shape of shortswords. Magnetic projection fields in the MJOLNIR's gauntlets allowed the user to form plasma blades without the need of a hilt, it also allowed the user to fire plasma bolts, albeit to a limited range.

The Spartan _held_ both blades in a reverse grip, and charged the green woman. She managed to duck in time as a blue plasma blade skimmed over her head, with wisps of ionised air trailing right behind it.

The green figure rushed John with acrobatic attacks to overwhelm the Spartan, but he kept his stance stable and went on the defensive. The Commander then attempted gain the advantage once more, and went on a shock and awe offensive. Using precision and overwhelming speed, he moved with fluidity and accuracy that would've brought some of the Covenant's greatest warriors to their knees. But to his surprise, every time the blades made contact with the woman, no damages occurred. The blades warped, transferring their immense heat into her flesh, but there were no signs of damage.

The Spartan swore as he realised the blades were ineffective and deactivated them. As he advanced onto the green woman, he delivered a series of fast punches and palm attacks in an attempt to throw her off balance. The tactic paid off as John struck the woman's right temple with thunderous force, causing her to stumble, allowing him to send her reeling end over end, with a kick.

The Supersoldier then took a quick glance at his HUD's sensors, which revealed another being approaching. John double timed to his fallen rifle, shouldered the weapon, and fired a quick burst into the direction of the approaching threat. Savage blue energy stabbed through the force, burning wood and foliage that were in the rounds' trajectories.

However that seemed to do nothing in favour for the Commander, as a humanoid figure with claws came charging towards him. John quickly sidestepped, and cleanly dodged the being's claws.

_Rumble drug_, thought the Supersoldier, _or something like it, these people move too fast to be normal humans. Must be Innies._

The claw armed being spun around for another attack; he threw a salvo of punches which the Spartan swatted aside easily. John then slammed the butt of his weapon into his attacker's stomach, quickly winding him. The Supersoldier activated a plasma blade, and plunged the energy weapon deep into his target's abdomen. The human male grunted as the blade burned through his flesh and innards.

John then swiftly kicked the human in the chest, sending him flying back, and slamming into a tree. John had kicked many sapiens in the chest thousands of times, and always he would hear the sound of ribs snapping. But he was just rewarded with the sound of escaping air this time.

…

Walters pulled herself up from the cold metal decking, she had no clue to why the deck was there, but had more pressing matters at hand. The unknown entity had just subdued Wolverine. Jennifer knew that this armoured being was military trained, most likely a Tier One soldier on steroids.

She also noticed the level of technology the being possessed. The rifle he wielded is an energy weapon of some kind; the blades he emitted out of his hands were plasma. If it weren't for her body's resilience, Jen knew that she would've been killed. The entity had scored so many hits on her with his plasma blades, that it left her costume in smouldering tatters.

"Walters, do not engage the entity, Rhodey and I have a gift for him," said Stark.

"How do you know it's a _him_?" asked Jen.

"Guess work."

She-Hulk watched on as her two flying armoured allies swooped in, and fire special munitions, specifically for dealing with tanks. Jen's charge was capable of taking out an APC in one go, but the figure manage to resist it with ease.

The unique rounds streaked through the air, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake as they struck the being.

But much to the Avengers' shock and horror, the rounds just ricocheted off what appeared to be energy shields, and explode harmlessly in the forest, toppling over some trees.

"That didn't work point-dexter," growled Walters.

The two Ironmen landed with a dull thud in front of the being, both parties had their weapons aimed at each other.

**XXxxXX**

**A/N: That's it for now…**

**This story borrows heavily from **_**Humanity's Legacy**_** in terms of setting, technology and attire.**


	2. Chapter 2

**0315 HOURS, NOVEMBER 1st, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
UNKOWN LOCATION**

The two armoured figures stood in front of John, with their weapons held high. One being was armour scheme was gold and red, the eye sockets and the centre of the red piece glow blue. The other being was grey, with red lights and brimmed with an array of weaponry. The two sets reminded the Spartan of the earlier MJOLNIR series and the Olympian walker. They were designed for direct confrontation rather than stealth.

The Spartan squeezed the trigger, sending out lances of ion rounds which lashed and melted the opposition's armour.

…

Knowing that the weapon possessed extreme anti-armour capabilities, Stark and Rhodey blasted off and began to fly in circles around the entity. Thanks to the protection provided by their armour, they weren't killed by the massive g-forces pushing on them. This served to confuse the entity for a split second, allowing the two men to open fire.

Much to their dismay, the rounds just bounced off the being's shield.

"This isn't working Tony," gritted Rhodes.

"I'll use my laser on him," said Stark.

A scarlet red beam snaked out from Iornman's gauntlet, striking the entity in the chest. But once again, the fearsome being's shields flared gold as it absorbed the brunt of the attack.

"Might I suggest suppressive attacks, sir," said JARVIS.

…

John swore as the laser overloaded his first shield layer, causing the second one to kick in. The Spartan raised his rifle and fired steady bursts at a select point, hoping to deter his attacks from flying around in circles.

_They're fast_.

The Commander decided to go on the offensive, dug his legs into the soil, and pushed himself forward with tremendous force. Coupled with the additional force provided by his armour's thrusters, the Spartan had literally turned himself into a missile, trailed by shimmering air and wisps of blue in its wake.

…

Rhodes grunted as he felt the sudden jolt in his momentum. The entity had bull rushed him and pinned him on the ground. He swung his minigun around and fired upon this military green being at point blank. But the shields just seemed to be absorbing the attacks. Warped and deformed .303 Nato rounds bounced over his armour.

The entity ignited what seemed to be plasma and began to melt through his armour.

James swore as blistering heat washed over his arms and legs. The entity was removing his one advantage, speed. His HUD began to flare and crackle as it showed the damage. Thrusters and guns were offline; Rhodes knew he was going to cop it.

…

The Spartan was prepared to deliver the final killing blow, when he was promptly knocked aside and sent flying into a tree. John focused on his attacker; it was that claw-armed being again.

_Damn it! Regenerative capabilities._

The Commander delivered a flurry of precision attacks, most aimed for the ribcage. But the attacker didn't seem to be phased greatly. He had expected to be greeted by the sound of ribs snapping like twigs and squelching flesh.

He had to change tactics again. The Spartan quickly kicked the attacker squarely in the chest, sending him reeling end over end. With active-camo engaged, John rolled off to his right and collected his SABR.

…

"Rhodey, you okay?" asked Stark.

"Fried my armour," the reply came, "where's Woleverine?"

"Got his ass handed to him… again."

"Okay, I had a better handle on this guy," said Jen, "you fellas had your turn, now it's mine."

…

John stalked along the outskirts of the _meadow_, hoping to get the jump on the remaining red-gold armoured being. But that strategy was quickly dashed when his opponent sensed his approach. Energy bolts splashed across his shields as the Spartan swooped down like a hawk, with both blades activated.

His opponent seemed to have the same ability to as an energy blade came into existence along red-gold's gauntlets.

The two entered several bouts, parrying one another attackers. But the Spartan was by far the better, and soon his opponent began to stagger under the overwhelming sweep attacks. Capitalising on an opening, the Commander quickly slashed at key joints in the armour, causing red-gold's weapons to crackle and wink out.

…

"Offensive capabilities are now offline, sir," said JARVIS.

Stark ran his eyes along the entity. Its armour was military green and absolutely ominous and fearsome. It appeared to be of alien and human origin. Tony wondered where the resources came from to make this suit of armour. More so, was the user even human? The speeds at which he moved at, the level of prevision and fluidity displayed was well beyond human.

This being, had incapacitated half of the team already.

Tony prepared for a burning sensation somewhere in his gut as he expected the being would kill him outright. But just in the nick of time, Captain America had arrived on sight.

…

The MJOLNIR's sensors alerted John that an object was on a collision course for his head. The Spartan quickly ducked and spotted a round shield soar over him and ricocheted off a redwood. The shield then returned to its thrower.

The Commander quickly assessed his knew opponent.

_Any nasty surprises I should know?_

The man was larger than any other normal human, he wore star spangled, red and blue themed suit. It reminded the Spartan of WWII posters use to recruit men into the armed forces. Judging by the newcomer's appearance, he would have to be a symbol of hope and liberty, an icon.

John quickly unslung his rifle and charged his new opponent, sending accurate shots down range.

…

Steve Rogers took cover behind his shield, allowing the energy lances to splash harmlessly over his iconic instrument.

Jennifer Walters, who had been waiting for the perfect time to strike, leapt up from cover and vaulted over Rogers.

The entity was quick to react as it slung its rifle and dodged She-Hulk's initial attack.

"Eat this!" it yelled in a low male, baritone voice.

…

C12D, one of the UNSC's most potent explosives, it was the successor to the C12, and had three times the explosive yield of equivalent mass. So for John to use it in close quarters, meant that the fight was becoming extremely desperate for him.

He slammed a semtex grenade filled with C12D, onto the green woman and kicked her with all the strength he had in him.

…

Walters was sent reeling back end over end. Although she had super strength, it didn't necessarily mean that her inertia was equal to it. And when the entity kicked her, there weren't enough opposing forces to stop her flying off.

Being slammed into a tree was the last thing Jen remembered before being engulfed in a ball of fire.

…

Rogers felt the shockwaves tore through the area, as it flattened the immediate area around Walters. The sheer heat from the explosive had coated the area around her in glass and burned off her uniform.

Captain America was now the last man standing.

…

John stumbled as the shockwaves slammed into him, throwing him back a couple of metres. He quickly recovered and shifted his attention to his final opponent.

The Commander rushed forward and unleashed a barrage of punches, but they were all being blocked by the shield. He then resorted to sweeping kicks, but every attack stopped in its tracks as the shield absorbed the thunderous force behind the attacks.

Every hit caused the shield to resound like a bell. Ironic for those who know the works of John Donne.

…

Steve had always preferred boxing as his primary fighting style; of course he used other martial forms when the situation called for it. But most of the time, it was his upper body that attacked, while the legs remained rooted.

Seeing an opening in his attacker's form, Rogers rushed in and bashed his opponent with his shield, forcing the entity on the defensive.

…

John was surprised at his opponent's skill. No doubt he was also a Supersoldier. Their match seemed to drag on for eternity, only the sound of the resounding shield was heard throughout the entire battle.

Just when the Spartan was about to gain the upperhand, he was struck by a powerful beam, which sent him flying deep into the forest. Energy shields were just a barrier, they still had to obey the laws of physics. That meant that it didn't have to be depleted for the user to be flung across the field.

Snapping a few branches on the way down, the Spartan splashed into a creek. He knew had to escape the immediate area. He knew by now, additional reinforcements were on the way, and just couldn't hold out against that many. He needed to retreat and consolidate.

John swiftly pulled himself onto the opposing bank, and tossed his reaming pack of C12D under a fallen tree.

Sprinting as fast as he could due north of his position, the Spartan detonated the C12D pack to deter anyone from following him. The night sky was once more interrupted by a column of fire and splinters of wood raining down on everything in the immediate area.

…

Rogers shielded himself as bits of rock and wood peppered the area around him. He then turned to Stark, who was barely standing. As Stever moved closer to help Ironman, he nearly gagged on the smell of cooked flesh and ozone.

"Wow, he took out Walters and Logan," gasped Stark.

"Hey, sit down," ordered Rogers, "I don't think the guy is coming back."

"He's a Supersoldier, like you, Steve. If a normal pulled off what he did, their skeleton would be pulverised."

"I know."

**XXxxXX**

**0415 HOURS, NOVEMBER 1st, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
UNKOWN LOCATION**

John ran across the forest, being careful to avoid any airborne patrols. The technology he had seen so far resembled 21st century technology greatly. It was very unnerving for him. He was alone, and did not know where he was.

His decision to keep on moving until he arrived at a settlement was not one he had taken lightly. The Spartan moved along the river, in the hopes that he'd arrive at something useful for navigation. And true enough, John reached a highway bridge. The Spartan engaged his active camo, and prepared to climb.

**XXxxXX**

**0815 HOURS, NOVEMBER 1st, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
SAN FRANCISCO**

The technological level that John had seen so far was extremely discomforting. It was all 21st Century tech. He would've concluded that he had travelled back in time, but the skirmish earlier seemed to prove otherwise.

With his enhanced cognitive abilities, the Spartan went through a wide-spectrum of scenarios, the most likely one, was that he was in a parallel universe… or that he was in some kind of coma. Though he doubted the latter greatly as higher-cognitive functions were greatly reduced when the subject was unconscious. Granted that the Spartans' cognitive abilities were well beyond that of a normal human, but the level of information John was processing was not possible unless he was conscious.

Thus he concluded that he was in a parallel universe, where just pissed off a lot of powerful people. The most logical option was just to fade away. Easy enough considering the number of times he had to do so when taking down Insurrectionist cells.

The training he received for hacking and infiltration as a teenager was more than suitable for the task he planned to accomplish. Now older, far more experienced and enhanced in any way possible, this was going to be a cakewalk.

Perched atop a building, John planned to wait until traffic had died down, and would then make his way to a Government database. From there, he would acquire the needed intelligence and set up a false identity. Then he would extract necessary funds and a location to operate from, just like he had done countless times earlier.

**XXxxXX**

**1415 HOURS, NOVEMBER 17th, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
UNSC HELD SPACE, SOL SYSTEM, EARTH, EAST AFRICA, NEAR VOI, HILLSIDE MEMORIAL**

The remaining Spartan-IIs, IIIs and IVs, wearing their unique ceremonial dress uniform, formed an honour guard as Blue team carried the empty casket towards its resting place. The ceremony was quick and brief, just how John would've liked it. His one request was to be remembered.

Kelly placed a bouquet of violet roses from Reach. She remembered that they were John's favourites since childhood.

She remembered that week in training, when Mendez had separated the Spartans into pairs. The last pair to be found was the winners of the exercise. John and Kelly managed to stay hidden for so long that they had moved down closer to the river, to avoid detection. She remembered how gently he plucked a violet rose and set it gently down into the stream. She remembered how he watched it until it faded from sight. It was a strange level of sentiment coming from him, but it was welcomed nonetheless.

The twenty-one gun salute quickly brought her back to reality as the casket was lowered down. No one uttered a word or wailed in grief. Kelly could see Dr Catherine Halsey in the distance, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eventually, the contingent of soldiers dispersed in an orderly fashion as the media attempted to pry answers out of the UNSC Special Forces. Kelly walked pass the flashing cameras and into a car. She waited for Linda to sit by her side, and Fred sit in driver seat. She waited for the convoy to speed off onto the highway, before she let the tears roll.

**XXxxXX**

**1015 HOURS, NOVEMBER 21st, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
SAN FRANCISCO**

Like he had predicted, setting up everything from scratch was a cinch. He had a birth certificate, driver's license, Doctorate in Computing and Computer Science, reasonable amount of funds in his bank account and a penthouse suited to his needs.

The penthouse looked over the financial district and the Golden Gate Bridge. It had the best security money could buy, which was further enhanced by the Spartan's expertise. His weapons armour was housed on in the walk-in wardrobe of the master bedroom. A mass of monitors and computing equipment was installed into the studies room, furthering the notion that John was a computer genius.

Integration into contemporary society was seamless; few seemed to question him, allowing the Spartan to move freely. His first step, was now finding out more about the world he was currently in.

**XXxxXX**

**A/N: That is all… may have seemed a bit rushed but…. Everyone knows the drill of these mixer elements. So there's no point in wasting time around them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Flamers… ouch. Not really. To me, being Flamed is like being injected with morphine for the first time. It fields weird… maybe it's because they're flaming me **_**wrong**_**.**

**XXxxXX**

**0905 HOURS, NOVEMBER 22nd, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
SAN FRANCISCO**

John sat at his desk, overlooking the apartment's spectacular view as he combed his way through article after article.

So far, he had come to the conclusion that he was in an alternate reality. The maths he did even seemed to be in support of the theory.

To put the calculations he had done simply, every time a ship entered slipspace, the portal had a set frequency. Leaving slipspace at the same frequency would allow the vessel to exit with perfect accuracy in both timing and location. However, the machinery involved didn't always produce the same exit and entering frequency, thus the slight time dilation and drift. 26th Century UNSC ships entered and exited with varying frequencies, causing the jumps to be slightly off target and a few minutes around the desired time. Covenant ships were far more accurate, allowing their jumps to have surgical precision in both timing and accuracy.

When the Brute had _detonated_ the slipspace rupture device, John had assumed it was a high-yield explosive and thus engaged armour lock. The EM pulses emitted, that were meant to disrupt guided missiles and dissipate plasma bolts, altered the slipspace portal's frequency continuously until the EMP ceased. The massive alterations caused the jump into a parallel universe, which the Spartan was not familiar with.

His weeklong research shed light on what he had encountered upon his arrival. There were countless web-articles that contained information on Captain America, Ironman, She-Hulk, Fantastic Four, mutants, and so much more.

However, he could not acquire any information about their main affiliations, and civilian identities. Save Ironman, Fantastic Four, and Captain America's.

Most of the information he had collected wouldn't help him much in getting back to his own reality. Still, he had adapted to the new environment seamlessly, which was a start.

**XXxxXX**

**HELLICARRIER**

Nick Fury paced back and forth in the Avenger's briefing room. A couple of non-Avengers personnel were also there for analytical purposes.

"Just about three weeks ago, we encountered an unknown bogey," said Fury as a nearby screen played out captured footage. "Ladies and gentlemen, your asses were handed to you on a silver platter by this being."

This caused some concern in the Avengers who weren't at the battle.

"What do we know so far?"

"His weapons burned through mine and Stark's armour," said Rhodie.

"Titanium composite armour, one of the toughest material around, and he just went through it as if it was ice, scans showed that the weapons fired ion beams" finished Tony, "now our man's armour here, has energy shields. Our anti-tank rounds just bounced off him. As far as SHIELDs knows, ion weapons and energy shields have barely passed the conceptual stage."

"How much power does that kind of equipment need?" Fury asked.

"More than my reactor can possibly provide," answered Stark.

"Don't forget, he took down Wolverine and She-Hulk, easily…" said Hawkeye.

"…But Rogers managed to hold his own," added Black Widow.

"Hmm, yeah," contemplated Stark, "that doesn't seem right. Wolverine gets swatted while the ol'Captain here survives a couple of bouts."

"Fighting styles," suggested Hawkeye, "we can see in the recordings that Wolverine's offensive leaves him vulnerable to a counter-attack from a very fast opponent. Roger's style is more defensive and reserved."

"Anything else to add?"

"Yeah, notice the way how he moves and attacks. Short quick movements that minimalize his exposure and keeps the enemy high strung," said Widow, "everything he does, is precise and fluid."

"Everything about him is beyond human," Hawkeye added.

"So, we've got a Supersoldier, with advance tech, on the loose," summarised Fury, "we don't know what his motives are, and we don't know where he is. I want all non-essential monitoring programs to be halted, and all available resources to find him. All units are to be on high alert. I want him found!"

**XXxxXX**

**1000 HOURS, NOVEMBER 22nd, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
SAN FRANCISCO**

There was no doubt, in John's mind, that numerous Intelligence Agencies would be after him since that battle. From what he had gathered, the Spartan had just defeated the _heroes_ of this world. The very same people who defeated a _god_, named Loki.

_Gods, mutants, superheros,_ thought John, _whoop-dee-friggin-do._

He was overwhelmed by what was considered _normal_ in this universe. His universe was probably as _normal_ as things get… including parasitic species into the equation of course. John wanted to return to where he _belonged_, where things made sense. Superheros just threw everything out of proportion.

The cold winter air rushed into the Spartan's lungs as he took a deep breath to clear his mind, and walked down the street, passing a shwarma joint. He was wearing a black themed business attire, to give the sense he was a corporate or a bureaucrat, which would work to his advantage. Wearing anything else, people might assume something less savoury. Especially since he was going to the bank, to make another _deposit_.

As he walked into the grand building, John was greeted by the sight of deep oak wood décor, marble tiles and low hanging chandeliers.

"How may I help you sir?" A female bank teller asked.

"Deposit," John answered in a polite manner.

"Of course, sir."

After finishing the transaction, the Spartan left the bank, and walked towards a food court in the hopes of finding something to eat.

He settled for pasta and a bottle of water, and found a place to sit down. It was a corner table, next to a fire exit. Years of working in rebel/insurrectionist territory had forced the Spartan to always be next to an escape route.

Looking across the vast area, he watched families eating, groups of friends chatting and teenagers courting. There was a hard truth for John to face; his original purpose was null and void. Sure he'd have to watch his back ever since the arrival incident, but aside from that, what could he do?

He couldn't resurface; every intelligence agency was out for him. All he could do was sit, and watch. Sit and watch, it sounded nice, but not right.

Leaving the mall, he headed back into the winter grounds. He was a free man, but one without purpose or direction. He needed to get back home, but he wasn't sure how.

**XXxxXX**

**A/N: I patent the hypothesis I created for the science behind alternate reality or parallel universe jumping.**


	4. Chapter 4

**XXxxXX**

**1200 HOURS, DECEMBER 22nd, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
SAN FRANCISCO**

John sat on the couch in his living room. He had turn on the TV to watch the news, and maybe get some ideas on what to do. He was conditioned to fight conventional and unconventional threats. But here, there were enough people to do the fighting, and not to mention that he aggravated Intelligence agencies around the world. With no idea on how to get back home, he needed something to do, he wanted, no, needed to help people.

"In other news, social stability in Africa is on the verge of collapse due to civil conflict and rampant diseases," said the Anchor-woman, "Correspondent James Ryans has more."

The feed then transitioned to an African-English man wearing body armour, standing in front of a refugee camp.

"Well as you can see here, famine and disease are rife," said Ryans, "this has left multiple regions in East Africa, teetering on the verge of collapse…"

Bingo! John decided that he would go and help out in any way he could in Africa. Years of participating in ONI and Counter-Insurgency Operations had scarred John greatly. He had led numerous incursions on Insurrectionist worlds classified as 'third worlds'. And during his time on those planets, he had committed acts that he never thought he would.

Spartans were never meant to be shining knights; it just turned out that way during the Human-Covenant War. But with humanity's greatest strife over, the Spartans were reassigned to their original purpose; fighting the Insurrectionist threat, by any means necessary.

John remembered the first time he had to torture a man through electrocution, then the woman after him. The Spartan had heard countless horrific screams, but none that had affected him so greatly by the ones he tortured, by the ones he interrogated. Those incidents led him to have so many sleepless nights, and guilt ridden dreams.

Down time was the worst for him, because he always reflected on the things he had done. Sure there were things he was proud of. But being proud doesn't stay with one forever, it must be fed continually. Guilt is like a ghost, it is near impossible to be rid of guilt, be rid of the horrible memories.

He remembered the first time he shot a boy, a boy who was just an innocent bystander. Who happened to be taken hostage by a fanatical Innie, his mother. John's original purpose was far more personal that the Human-Covenant War. He remembered what Fhajad told him so many years ago.

"_Being a Spartan requires you to give up your childhood and risk your life so that you and so many others can have a future. Being a spook requires you to sacrifice your soul, so that those you swore to protect can live in blissful ignorance."_

It was so true. Now John saw a chance to redeem himself, a chance to annul his guilt, and put his conscience to ease. Being the UNSC's greatest weapon, the Spartan had been subjected to the best accelerated learning, education available. And thanks to his eidetic memory he had retained all the knowledge and experience that would've taken a lifetime to accomplish and master.

He was capable of performing surgery both on and off the field. He could create a virus to unleash upon an unsuspecting populace, and create a cure for it. Providing medical attention of the highest order wouldn't be too much of a stretch for him.

So now, it was time for him to edit his profile to suit his needs and make preparations to head out to Africa.

**XXxxXX**

**1500 HOURS, DECEMBER 28th, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
MOMBASA, AFRICA**

Things went accordingly for John, the skills he learnt from ONI was invaluable. He had acquired the services of a freelancer pilot who had transported him and his equipment to Mombasa, no questions asked.

The plane touched down softly onto the airstrip, and opened its cargo bay doors, allowing John to drive the massive Conquest Knight down the ramp, with a trailer in tow. He was wearing grey khaki pants, white t-shirt, a pair of boots and polarised AR-glasses.

After checking the plane's fuselage and landing gear, the pilot, Brian Wells walked towards the Spartan. He ran his tanned hand through his brown hair as he scanned the vehicle.

"Expecting to be under fire in Mombasa, Doc?" Brian asked jokingly.

Maintaining the façade of an outwardly friend Doctor, John gave a chuckle.

"Well, I'm heading to the aid camps near the Somalia border."

Brian arched an eyebrow, "serious? I heard that area was unstable, a chopper was shot down brining in supplies."

"That's why I'm driving."

"Well, you be careful Doc. I'll see you later."

"Take care Brian."

Wells returned to the cockpit and restarted the engines, while John drove the SUV towards the Customs checkpoint. The grey armoured vehicle glistened in the sunlight as it rolled along the asphalt road.

"Good afternoon sir," a Customs officer in his mid-thirties said, "if you could please step out of the vehicle and hand me your identification."

The Spartan complied and dismounted the vehicle, pulling himself to full height. A number of the officer looked slightly surprised to see a man well over two metres tall, with a strong build. John didn't have a very muscular build like Jorge; he was slimmer and toned, making him faster and more agile. Everything about the Commander was in good proportion.

He pocketed his glasses, and handed the officer his papers and waited as the other Customs officer checked the contents of his vehicle. John had managed to disguise his armour components as medical equipment, so the officers just glossed over them without a second glance.

"It says here, Doctor, that you're carrying a gun and light body armour. Can you confirm this?"

"Yes, they're in the trunk of the vehicle."

A couple of the guards opened the trunk and checked that there was a pistol with spare ammunition, and a set of Kevlar vests and pads.

If the Customs officer found that it a physically _perfect_ doctor to be armed, standing right in front of him, he didn't show.

"Everything checks out, good luck with the crisis, Doctor."

"Thank you."

John received his documentations, got back in his vehicle, and was off on his way. He hoped that his time in Africa would also allow him to see if there would be any Forerunner facilities so that he could get home. The chances of finding one would be small if not zero, but it was worth a shot looking into.

Listening in on the radio, the speaker had warned that there were heavy fighting near the highways, prompting the Spartan to take a left and into the rural areas.

The Conquest Knight hummed down the road and past numerous small settlements. As John got further away from Mombasa, he began to see how desperate the situation truly was. Houses were riddled with bullet marks, dead bodies littered the streets. Some had been shot; others had been killed by disease or famine.

Knowing that he was on the cusp of entering a volatile area, John decided to put on his UNSC issued field cap, AR glasses, and body armour, modified to have parts of the MJOLNIR integrated into it, such as the superluminal COMs and a shield layer.

Quickly glancing at the side mirror, the Spartan realised he looked like a high-end mercenary. So to annul that image, he slid on a Red Cross armband on his left arm. He took a swig from his water bottle and continued on his way.

The roads became bumpier, torn up by RPG shells, fired by warring militia. No one was sure why there were militia fighting each other, but it happened so frequently that many were used to it. John wondered where the UN was, most likely being thinned out by the arising crisis.

Eventually, John was driving on a dirt road through the lush greenery, under the setting sun. The next town he reached seemed to be set ablaze, but just like the last one, there was no one around. _Looting_, he thought.

The Supersoldier's ears registered gunfire, specifically an AK-47. Rounds crashed across the cars armour, prompting the Spartan to scan his surroundings and draw his M8C pistol. He had removed the integrated sound annulment system also known as suppressor/silencer, to reduce any suspicion should he fire the weapon.

"Come out where ever you are," John whispered, remaining in persona.

A Ute with a mounted MG42, roared onto the road, blocking the Knight's route. Another technical rolled up behind John to prevent his escape. A gang of militia soldier's emerged from the forest, some as young as eight. They aimed their AKs clumsily at the Spartan; clearly they had been trained by an amateur.

"Get out of the car!" the leader barked, he and most of his _men_, wore wigs that had extreme hairstyles, and colourful clothing.

"What do you want?" John asked, placing his pistol in the side door.

The leader just huffed and ordered his _men_ to investigate the vehicle.

"The trailer is locked," said a teenager.

"Unlock it!" the leader yelled at John, shoving his revolver into the Spartan's chest, through the window.

Without anyone noticing, John quickly grabbed his pistol and shoved it up his vest's hidden pocket. It wasn't the best place to put a gun since it hampered the wearer's ability to draw the weapon, but for now, it would have to do. He rather not kill these people since there were children among them. _Armed children_, John's rationality spoke, _you've killed dozens of them before_.

"Look, if you're after money," John said, "I don't have any. I'm a doctor; I'm going towards the medical camps."

"Shut up!" the leader spat, "and get out!"

"Okay, okay, please, I don't want any trouble."

The Spartan, pocketed his car keys, opened the driver door, and rose to full height, causing some of the militia to jump back in surprise. The leader however, quickly regained his composure.

"Open the trailer," he said, menacingly.

John wasn't the least intimidated by this group. The way they had positioned themselves made them vulnerable to counter attack. Already, the Spartan had prioritised targets.

He opened the trailer doors, and revealed neatly stacked medical equipment.

"There's only medical equipment here," John said, closing the trailer doors.

"Fine, we'll take your car!" The leader yelled angrily. John managed to catch a whiff of the man's breath, it was evident that the leader and his group were on a drug fuelled high.

"That's not going to happen," John said menacingly, returning to the soldier he was. The Spartan knew they were going to attempt to kill him, thus, the two groups were now at an impasse.

John quickly grabbed the leader and used him as a meat shield while drawing his pistol. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, everything went in slow-motion, and time began to crawl. The Spartan first shot the machine gunner; the specialised rounds tore the militiaman's chest apart, sending him tumbling off the vehicle. John shifted his aim and shot the driver, before shooting the two enemy combatants in front of him

By the time the gunner had hit the dirt, the Spartan had killed four men. However, there were five more militiamen standing at the Knight's rear. Two managed to get a few shots off before their brains were splattered all over the technical. The AK rounds had gone wide, embedding themselves in the trees.

Making sure that no one would sneak up on him, John hauled the leader in his vice like grip, and pushed the struggling man to the left side of the SUV. Militiamen began to open fire on the Spartan, but their shots went wide, due to their poor training.

The gunner in the front technical had already laid down a field of suppressive fire, battering at the Knight's armour, and slashing through the windows.

John made sure to target the gunner on the front technical first, sending him tumbling off the back. The Spartan then eyed the children on their blood fuel rage, shooting at him without care. The leader grunted and went limp as dozens of bullets tore his body to bloody shreds.

The Supersoldier checked the HUD on his AR glasses, and noticed that the shields had drained to 60%. Without the MJOLNIR's full systems, the shields were not as effective.

He knew that the situation had forced his hand; there was just no other way around it. He _prayed_ that someday he could redeem himself for what he was about to do. The children's heads snapped back with shocking force as the bullets bored straight through their skull. They fell without a cry, but eyes still wide open.

John quickly got back into the SUV and gunned the engines. The vehicle shot forward and slammed into the technical. The side of the lesser vehicle crumpled like a leaf, but its main frame was still intact. He threw the vehicle in reverse, and then drove around the vehicle, tearing through the forest growth.

The Knight's engine roared as it was put under duress, but it eventually prevailed, pushing past the technical and onward down the road. There was a high chance that other militia would've been attracted by the skirmish, or had been called in as reinforcements, no doubt they would be on their way soon.

John wished that he could've stayed on the highway, but there were reports of heavy fighting, forcing him to trek through the country side. Obviously the rural areas were no safer.

The sun began to set in the distance, prompting the Spartan to turn on the head and flood lights.

**XXxxXX**

**RED CROSS MEDICAL CAMP, NEAR THE SOMALIA BORDER**

Doctor Abigail Chambers stood on the balcony of the prefab shelter, basking in the moonlight. The soft winds from the coast gently caressed her shapely body and beautiful face, and played with her brunette hair. She wore brown shorts, sneakers, a white singlet, and a white top with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone. Her warm brown eyes gazed across the beach, and she wished that she could go for a swim.

It was dark right now, and most of the camp had gone to bed. Only the staff and guards on the night shift were still out and about. Maybe she could get some of the off-duty doctors to come and join her, but then she rethought her decision. There had been reports of heavy fighting, and there could militia lurking beyond the boundaries of the camp.

Chambers had a successful career and an excellent life back home in Australia, but all that changed when her Politician of a husband was discovered to be cheating on her. And worse yet, he had been involved in a multitude of smuggling operations. Her view of the world had changed radically on that day. She discovered that she wasn't really helping anyone like she wanted to when she was younger.

The people that came to her clinic had easily treatable fevers, so in reality, Abigail never really saved a life. So she decided to go where she could help people. And here she was, in Africa.

"Brooding?" a young Doctor asked. He was of oriental descent, and was fresh out of Uni. Abigail viewed him like a younger brother. And he, viewed her like an older sister.

"No, Richard, I'm not brooding," Chambers sighed.

"Right," Richard Wester said exasperatedly.

Abigail rolled her eyes.

"Well, the lads and I are going to the northern section of the camp. I'll see you in the morning."

"See ya."

Wester turned, and picked up his lab coat before walking down stairs. Abigail heard the buggy's engine hummed as it moved off.

Her eyes picked up a grey SUV on approach, with a large trailer in tow. "Must be the new doctor," she said.

A few days ago, the staff had received word that another doctor, named John Spera, was coming out to help them. He had an impressive record too. He held a Doctorate in genetics, virology, computing, computer science, and a Master in surgery.

To Abigail, he sounded like someone who would be working for a massive enterprise or the government's RnD. So to have him out here was well, strange. But nonetheless, it was nice to have his help.

Seeing the SUV being allowed passage at the gate, Chambers tied her hair into a ponytail, and headed out of the prefab shelter, her shirt fluttering behind her. As the vehicle pulled up to the building, Abigail gasped in shock as she saw how battered the SUV was. The bonnet had been riddled with dents; part of the windshields was covered in bullet holes.

Doctor Spera exited the vehicle, Abigail was amazed at how perfectly built he was. The man stood well over two metres tall, and usually people of Spera's height would be lanky. But he had a build that was in excellent proportion. He wasn't overly muscular, but his muscle did show raw strength and power. He had the body of a well-toned endurance athlete. His face was rugged and striking; he was naturally attractive, not artificially like the men on magazines and reality TV shows. His hair was auburn and Abigail couldn't help but notice his blue eyes that were slightly luminous.

Chambers also registered the fact that he was wearing body armour, and had a holster for a pistol that didn't look like it was one available to the general public of America. _Could be military_, she wondered.

"Hello," he greeted, "I'm Doctor Spera."

"Yes, I heard you were coming, I'm Doctor Abigail Chambers."

"We'll nice to meet you," Spera said, moving to unhook the trailer.

"What happened?" Abigail asked, gesturing to the SUV, "Did you go by the highway?"

"No rural areas," Spera replied, "highway was blocked."

"I thought the countryside was safe, we had staff driving supplies through those areas, this morning."

"Probably was," John said, unpacking his luggage, "situations escalated most likely."

"Did you bring the medical equipment?" Abigail asked.

"Yes," John nodded.

"Are they okay?"

"Yeah, armour kept them safe. Where can I set them up?" Spera asked.

"We've got a reinforced prefab back there," Chambers gestured.

"Cool, I'll get to work, call me if you need anything."

"Sure."

Abigail watched as the newest staff member haul off the boxes of equipment, she found him slightly unusual. Not socially awkward or anything, just very reserved.

"Hey, you need help with anything, John?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks anyway."

**XXxxXX**

**0700 HOURS, DECEMBER 29th, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
RED CROSS MEDICAL CAMP, NEAR THE SOMALIA BORDER**

Thanks to the training from ONI, John had perfected the art of acting. He could merge into any social environment easily and seamlessly. So far, he had only met Abigail, a few nurses and a UN soldiers.

John had hoped to get into a camp closer to Mombasa and Voi, but apparently they needed him desperately at the current camp. _It can wait_, the Spartan reasoned.

He had spent all night staying up and unpacking his gear, careful to tuck away his MJOLNIR into the Knight's secret compartment he had installed. The vehicle had been outfitted to suit his needs, but required some light repairs due to the recent damage it took. _I'll deal with that later_, he decided.

"Hey, John," Abigail called, holding two mugs of coffee in her hands. She was wearing similar attire as the night before, except this time, she wore a grey blouse.

"Yes?" the Spartan said, turning around.

"Got you a cup, two sugars."

"Thanks," he said, accepting the mug.

Although he didn't like coffee, John found the gesture to be touching.

"Nice set up you've got going here," Chambers complimented.

John had placed everything in an ordered fashion; he had effectively turned the prefab shelter into a medical research hub.

"Did the guys get my package?" the Spartan asked, making idle conversation.

"Yeah, Richard seems happy with the new ultrasound and x-ray machines," Abigail said, "more and more people are coming in with bullet wounds."

"It was hell on the way in."

"Figures, you're SUV was pretty banged up. What happened?"

"Well, I was planning to go in by air…"

"But they've stopped flying supplies in," Chambers interjected, setting her mug down on the metal table.

"Yeah," John nodded, "decided to drive in, hoped to tag along with a UN convoy…"

"But, let me guess, reports said that the route from Mombasa to here was safe. So no one patrolling the area."

"Pretty much," John said, "ran into an ambush by the militia, made it out okay."

Abigail found the man standing in front of her to be somewhat enigmatic. He had an impressive profile, so what was he doing in an unstable region. He carried a gun too, which was a cause of suspicion. _Must be some kind of observer_, she thought. Chambers also noticed he was still wearing body armour.

"Did you stay up all night?" she asked.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep."

_Figures_, she thought.

"Well are you going to be okay for today? I'd rather have you rested than treating people while fatigued."

"I'll be fine."

"Alright, I'll see you soon." Abigail left the building, taking her mug with her to prepare for the day.

John quickly downed the contents of the mug, left the shelter, and locked the doors. He pulled on some latex gloves, and got to work.

**XXxxXX**

**A/N: Phew, that's done.**

**Anyway, these Literary "vigilantes" are spreading like wild fire! And one of them, are absolutely shameless, well at least they have the decency to be honest, I'll give them that.  
Whatever happened to objectivity in constructive criticism? Why is it replaced by subjectivity?**

**In any case, I've created a group to counter this problem.**

_**Joyous Exultations**_** is aimed at praising the artistic flare and creativity of stories and authors, and helping aspiring writers.**

forum/Joyous_Exultations/117189/


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: What bothers me? Well, anonymous reviewers who don't seem to pick up on a lot of clues and obvious hints I place. So let's begin.**

…

**I never really do a large author's note and message section, but after the last chapter and some uncertainties that have been voiced. I felt that a long address was needed to make sure that we're all on the same page.**

**Well, the reviews for the last chapter, for the most part, I expected the "criticisms" I have received. Some were said that my portrayal of John was off as he was too scarred, even for killing kids. Others believed that it was too extreme.**

…

**Dear arandomrevier**

**Thank you for the input. First off, killing kids is different to killing men who want to rip you apart. John was slightly uncomfortable about killing the ODSTs, but mentally compartmentalised and didn't give it another thought. (Refer to end of chapter in **_**Halo Fall of Reach**_**).**

**Secondly, I made it clear that the Chief was reassigned to do wetwork with ONI. You've still got to do interrogations in the field. Interrogations are when you need them to talk fast, it gets messy pretty quickly. No one ever got info out of the enemy just by sitting them down and talking to them. To loosen someone's tongue, you need force it out of them. ("Truth Serum" is a myth, it makes people more susceptible, but to a trained person, it does nothing. In any case, if an interrogator is injecting the subject with chemicals, they're most likely compounds which cause extreme pain).**

**Next, when a person merges into a social environment, they tend to gain something out of it, like new insights. Having worked undercover with ONI, John would've no doubt, picked up some social ethics.**

**Also, these are Innie civvies we're talking about here. I think it's safe to say that some Innie settlements do become rundown and the people revert into a primal state. So in that scenario, everyone becomes a threat.**

…

**Now, onto Dosh**

**I thought I made it blatantly clear that the Chief had to remain in persona to merge in with his social surroundings.**

**Ergo, the use of colloquial language.**

…

**Road Rage**

**TCR rounds? That's more of **_**Freedom Guard **_**and **_**Harbinger's**_** thing. Not that it's a bad thing. It's just I'd rather go with my own direction with this story.**

**Besides why carry TCR/TTR rounds to an unstable region? It just really doesn't make sense.**

**Interrogation, refer to what I said earlier. Please remember that ONI is a covert intelligence organisation. They WILL get their hands dirty, they WILL use brutality if it comes to it.**

**Torture techniques are mainly electrocution as it is the most painful on the subject, and far more productive. Not to mention, it won't have a heavy adverse mental effect on the interrogator. Example, what causes more psychological damage to an interrogator?  
A, acid tricks on the subject/pulling finger nails/messy physical torture  
Or  
B, electrocution**

**(Btw, by Seiko, I'm assuming you're referring to "psycho" not the wristwatch brand, right?)**

…

**So, many of you will be wondering why I had the Chief kill kids and civilians, and why he has a "conscience". Well, many stories I've read that stars the Chief mainly portray him as some kind of machine, it doesn't work for me. It becomes an oxymoron, the saviour of humanity doesn't have any humanity.**

**Granted that he and other Spartans are calculative, but they are still human. They're not indoctrinated, just conditioned. ONI wants them to be capable of self-initiative at a high level. This in turn makes them prone to reflecting on their actions. And also, Spartans were never meant to be morale boosters or heroes, just wetwork. It's just the Human-Covenant War got so desperate that Section 2 had to reveal the existence of the Spartans.**

**In short, I wanted to make John more human, wanted to make him battle-weary. Killing civilians shows what kind of work ONISAD was involved in, what kind of world the Spartans were originally meant for.**

…

**For those who haven't picked up on my aim yet, this story is to push boundaries, make people think at the sacrifices others make, the tough choices they come across. This is to show the harsh nature of human behaviour.**

**I have no desire for this story to be a 'silver age' story. I aim for this story to be a hybrid of modernist, post-modernist and romantic (the time period and culture, not love). So of course I'm going to throw in elements that'll make people cringe, and think about the current culture.**

**But if you want a "bright and happy" story, then you're probably not going to find it here. This story is going to be dark and gritty, (which I see a lack of, on fanfic).**

…

**So, that's my little "rant", I hope that everything is clear. If you have any issues, please PM me or post a review via your account, so that I may talk to you in private. I'm not a big fan of drawing things out in public. But it had to be done since these reviews were anonymous.**

**Apologies if I've offended anyone, but it really bothers me when certain reviewers seem like they've skimmed through the chapter and missed all the important parts.**

**Kind Regards**

**Andrithir**

**P.S: Kurogane7, the names were purely coincidental, but then again, it could be an allusion for what's to come. MAJOR HINT!  
Btw, I do love how you pick up on references that I unknowingly create. XD**

**XXxxXX**

**1300 HOURS, DECEMBER 29th, 2600 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \  
RED CROSS MEDICAL CAMP, NEAR THE SOMALIA BORDER**

John and Abigail were in one of the medical tents at the eastern section of the camp. The calm sea waves lapsed onto the sand, providing a calm aura to those who had little peace. The white sheets flapped as the winds glided through, cooling the sick.

The patients' health deteriorated at an alarming rate. There were no known diseases that could evolve at such a high rate. John wondered if this disease was a bioweapon and was racially orientated, a couple of local nurses and doctors had fallen ill, while the Caucasian and Asian staffs were perfectly healthy. The Spartan had seen this kind of thing in the outer-colonies during counter-insurgency operations.

So John examined the UN guards; some of them were of African descent but had moved to countries with colder climates and different eco structure. All of them were healthy. The disease had to be geographically orientated, that was the only explanation.

"Abigail," the Spartan called.

"Yeah?" she inquired, coming over.

"The disease, it's accelerating."

"Richard had mentioned something about that, last time he drove through the countryside, there were sick piling up everywhere. But are you sure it's just one disease? The patients here suffer all kinds of symptoms. It could just be the climate. It's more humid to day."

"Most likely, I'll take some blood samples and run a few tests."

"Be my guest," Abigail shrugged, "our shifts about over anyway."

The Spartan walked over to a sickly man, and spoke softly to him, before unwrapping a syringe. John gently inserted the tip into man, and extracted a few mils of blood. He then moved on to a few other patients, varying the subjects he took the samples from.

"Nice to see you've made things easier for us," Richard commented as he arrived with Doctor Grace Wilson.

"John works fast, never seen someone take out many bullets as he had in one hour," Abigail said.

"Thanks," the Spartan smiled, keeping persona.

"Well, I'll see you two later, I'm going for lunch," Chambers said, rubbing the back of her neck, "coming John?"

"Later, I'm going to look into this sample first."

The two parted their separate ways. Inside the lab, John looked carefully examined the blood samples. Eventually he made a startling discovery that the each sample contained a viral strain similar to the X-gene. The changes appeared to be tailored, meaning that someone had modified the mutant gene to become a virus.

Abigail then entered, "what do we have? Anything interesting?"

"Take a look," John gestured to the projector, displaying his findings.

"You're going to have to break it down for me, I didn't study genetics at Uni," Chambers said.

John brought up diagrams of the mutant strain, and compared it to the current one he found within the patients. "The one on the left is the existing mutant trait. The one on the right is what I've found in the patients."

"My god," Abigail whispered, "this means we're dealing with a time-bomb."

"Yes," John nodded, "but this seems to affect subjects geographically. Not racially. If this is anything like the original, it will mutate. Our current treatment is halting the process."

"But then we have those who are infected, but aren't at the camps."

"Yes, it could be a cause for all the violence. Many of the militia are just kids who don't know any better."

"We've got to warn the staff."

"Notify the UN patrols."

Chambers complied, and quickly left the prefab shelter. She was about to enter her building when an invisible force tossed her through the air. She landed on the dirt with a soft thud as pain washed over her body. Shattered glass and debris rained all around her. Screams echoed through the air, followed by thunderous roars. She could barely register what was going on. Abigail coughed as she opened her eyes and looked skyward. Spera was looking down on her; he was wearing his body armour, and had apparently got her a set too.

"Abigail, hold still," he said calmly, "you may have a concussion."

Chambers shifted uncontrollably, everything hurt. "What's going on?" she muttered.

"Camps under attack," John answered, competing with machine gun chatter. He carefully picked up the injured doctor, and gently placed her into the passenger seat of his car. "We've got to get out of here."

Recent events were more than mere coincidence. But right now, there was too much going on for John to analyse the situation. He needed to focus on getting the staffs to safety. Inhuman howls filled the air, causing John to turn around; his eyes bulged in horror as he saw dozens of disfigured beings tear through the camp with shocking speed.

"Richard, Grace!" the Spartan bellowed, "Get into the car now!"

The two doctors were sprinting out of the tent as a horrific parody ripped through the patients, turning them into bloody shreds. Richard and Grace quickly entered the Knight and threw on the seatbelts.

"What about the others?" Richard asked, concerned for the safety of his colleagues.

"Either dead, or with the guards," John said grimly.

He checked his tacpad to see if he had uploaded his findings, and exhaled with satisfaction when he saw that all the files were there. Drawing his sidearm, he moved round to the driver seat, opened the door, and got in.

The engine roared to life, as he slammed his foot down on the pedal. In a few short minutes, the entire camp had been turned into a warzone. Camps and buildings were set alight. Militia and disfigured beings fought each other.

Grace and Abigail screamed in shock as a child landed on the front bonnet, John remembered that child. He was one of the militiamen. His shredded clothes still had some colour. But his whole body just looked demonic, claws, fins and a tail.

"Holy shit!" Richard yelled as the child slashed furiously at the windshield.

John quickly slammed on the brakes, flinging the child forward. The Knight kicked up dirt as it roared around the child and weaved through the carnage. It was absolute chaos. Rounds pinged and crashed across the vehicles armour.

"This way is too the highway, John," Grace said, "it's too dangerous."

"Well the countryside isn't any safer, not with these guys running around," John rebutted, "at least we'll have some form of cover."

"If the UN and Kenyan forces haven't been overwhelmed," Richard added.

John fired a few rounds out of the window to discourage any militia from chasing them. But he was sure that they would be concentrating their efforts on the mutants, rather than a lone SUV.

"The hell is going on?" Richard pondered, "The militia seem to be attacking anyone on sight."

"Well find out soon enough," John said, guiding the Knight away from the stricken camp.

**XXxxXX**

**A/N: Well, this has been a short chapter, mainly to address certain issues, and provide some justification. (More will come, once I've done my finals).**


End file.
